


Reticence

by ReaperWriter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaperWriter/pseuds/ReaperWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the end of 3B, Emma and Killian are together, but she's noticed that he's stopped pursuing her the way he used to.  When his reticence becomes too much, Emma has no choice but to ask him about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reticence

**Author's Note:**

> Eddie and Adam's circus, Eddie and Adam's monkeys. Thanks as always to them for letting the rest of us into the show.

Emma Swan’s last two years have been more than a bit befuddling. She has gone from having no family to speak of to having the most complex family tree imaginable, populated with fairy tale characters. She’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, for christsakes, and her son’s adoptive mother is also her step-grandmother, who just happens to have been the evil Queen. Her son’s father’s father is Rumplestiltskin. And she frequently ends up drinking with Cinderella and little Red Riding Wolf. Normal had been something undefined for her for a while now.

However, she had never been more confused (and distracted) than she was right now. It’d been over a month since she and Killian took their little jaunt to the past. (His Hook persona will always be a part of him, but Killian Jones is who she’s fallen for). From their first night back, they had only grown closer. Their first real kiss at Granny’s had preceded what felt like a thousand other kisses since. (She knows they kissed in Neverland, and while it had shifted something between them, that kiss had been about dominance and control, not trust and affection).

But with each date (god, she’s almost thirty, is it really dating?), the kisses had stopped at her door, first at Granny’s, then at the seaside apartment Henry found for them (and then Gold gave to them, which had her waiting for the catch for at least the first week). Soft kisses, deep kisses, kisses that have flushed her skin and sent a wave of heat through her. Lingering slow kisses; fast, hard kisses; kisses brushed gentle and soft against her lips like a whisper.

And then he would say, softly, “Good night, Swan.” And he would be gone. After all the time together, and all of his innuendos, she couldn’t understand why they hadn’t taken that next step. She had seen him in the past, so ready and willing to find pleasure in a random woman in a tavern. Was it the princess thing freaking him out? Or did he think things worked differently in this realm? She almost wondered if she needed to get Ruby to explain the three date rule, before remembering that in her friend’s cursed incarnation, it was frequently the one date rule.

Finally, after dinner one night where Killian had eaten with them all, then kissed her at Granny’s stairs and headed up to his room, she had had enough. Henry and Regina were still sitting at the table, talking about an upcoming event at school.

“Hey Kid,” she said, sitting down. “I know it’s my night tonight, but if Regina’s free, would you like an extra night hanging out with her?”

Regina arched an eyebrow at her. Things were still rocky between them after the whole Marian incident. “Feeling all right, Miss Swan?”

“Yeah,” she said, reaching over and ruffling Henry’s hair. “Just kinda tired, and you guys have so much to catch up on.”

“Cool,” Henry said. She watched Regina’s eyes appraising her, but in the end, the woman gave her something resembling a smile and a nod. As peace offerings went, this wasn’t huge, but she would take any good will it generated for her.

Henry stood and hugged her goodbye, and then the two of them left the diner. Emma sat for a minute, gathering her thoughts and her gumption, then stood and walked over to the stairs. It was thirteen steps up to the second floor, and her mind counted each one as she climbed, trying to distract herself from the coming confrontation…conversation…chat? She wasn’t sure.

Maybe she had read his intentions wrong. Maybe now that she’d stopped running, the lack of the thrill of the chase had cooled his ardor. Maybe getting to know her, he wasn’t as enamored as he had been. Maybe she needed to stop fucking overthinking and just knock on the goddamned door.

It swung open in a moment and every thought she had had went right out of her head. Killian stood there in his leather pants and boots, the lighting of the hall glinting off his jewelry and bare from the waist up.

“Swan,” he said, looking at her with curiosity and a hint of trepidation. “Is everything all right?”

“What?” she asked, glancing up.   “Right, sorry. Um, are you busy?”

“Not at the moment,” he said, waving her into the room. On his bedside table was a tumbler of amber liquor and a rum bottle, and a book laying open to keep its page. She laughed to realize it was _Treasure Island_. Then that thought gave her pause.

“Long John Silver, is he real?” It’s ridiculous that this was where her brain was taking things, but it was getting her mind off the lean, toned chest in front of her and the line of curling dark hair, trailing down…

Killian’s chuckle startled her. “Not that I am aware of, love, but there was a line in a play I read last week, something about more things in heaven and earth.” He stood next to the bed and looked at her. “You didn’t come here to ask me about pirates in books, did you?”

She almost chickened out, in that moment. Because the room was suddenly too hot and too close and Jesus, what had she been thinking…

And then his arms were around her, gently, and the hair on his chest was tickling her chin. “Breathe love,” he said, and she felt his lips press gently against her hair. “Whatever it is, it will be all right.”

Emma took a deep breathe. This was like ripping off a Band-Aid. She just needed to do it. “Did I do something wrong?” and goddammit, she heard the waiver in her voice, the quiet neediness.

Killian pulled back slightly to look down at her face and she knew she was blushing, that her face was going red and this was so stupid of her. “Love, I don’t understand.”

“It seems like…” God, maybe if she wished hard enough, the floor would open up and swallow her whole. “Like you don’t…want me…that way.”

And then he laughed. The bastard fucking laughed. She brought her hands up forcibly and shoved, and Killian let go as the air rushed out of his lungs. She felt hot tears burn her eyes and she spun to go when his arms came back around her, pulling her against his chest.

“Of course I want you, you bloody stupid woman.” And then his mouth was on her neck, sucking and licking and she thought her knees might go out from under her. “By the Gods, Emma, I’ve wanted you since that day atop the bean stalk.”

She shuddered, and he let go for a second, turning her to face him, bringing his good hand up to cup her face. “I want you every moment of every day, love.”

“Then why haven’t you made a move?” she whispered, leaning into his hand as his other arm came around her back, cradling her close.

He was quiet, almost too quiet for a long moment, and the memory of how he was with her after Zelena had cursed him filled her with dread. Then, he spoke, his mouth again near her hair. “Emma, love, I didn’t want to push. I was afraid that if I took things too quickly, you’d….well…”

“Run,” she said, and the clarity was wrenching. She had done such a number on this man that he was terrified she might leave him. Irony was a cruel, cruel bitch.

“Aye,” he said, and his mouth moved lower, kissing the spot just under her ear. “I’m sorry, love, that it seemed like I didn’t want you. Because I don’t just want you, Swan. I need you like air.”

She felt herself melt against him, her own hands sliding up his chest as a groan rumbled through him. “Killian?”

“Aye, love?” His lips moved to her pulse point, and she trembled in his arms again.

“I’m not running anymore.” Her fingers came up, raking through his hair, and she felt him shudder this time, his arms pulling her tight against him.

“Emma, love…gods, there is no going back from this.” He exhaled slowly, and his voice sounded so wrecked her heart ached with it.

“Good.” The word was a whisper, and before it died in the quiet between them, his lips were on hers, crushing and brutal, demanding entrance. Her own parted and then his tongue was plunging in, caressing hers and tasting her, a soft moan vibrating along it as his hand found her shirt and pulled it loose from her pants.

The cool metal of his hook ghosted over her lower back as his hand bunched the fabric, pulling it up and over her head. She raised her arms to help him, bringing them back down all the way to his waist and pulling him flush against her own, feeling him already hard against her stomach. She shifted and arched against him, chasing friction against the flushed heat of her core.

Killian growled low in his throat. “Swan, love if you keep doing that…”

“What’s the matter, pirate?” she whispered. “Can’t handle it?” She brought her hand around and cupped him through his leather pants. He jerked and thrust into the pressure.

“Fuck…” His voice was gravel and sin. “Emma, please…I want to do this properly…Gods, woman. Take my time with you…”

Emma pulled away from him and he froze, unmoving. She saw the fear in his eyes, and she hated it so much. Reaching behind her, she unhooked her bra and pulled it off. “We have all the time in the world.” His eyes widened as she quickly pulled off her boots and toed out of her socks, and then stood, her hand reaching for the button of her jeans. “I need you, now. Please, Killian.”

His hand grabbed his hook and twisted it violently, disengaging it from the harness that held it on. Then his arms were around her, picking her up and laying her on the bed. His hand made quick work of fastenings on her jeans and he started to push them down when she grabbed his hand, stilling it, and then pulled a couple of crinkling packets out of one pocket. Then she helped him shove the pants down and off.

His body bracketed hers, holding himself up with his brace and his lips closing around one already pebbled nipple as his hand moved down to brush her soft folds. “Gods, Swan, you’re so bloody wet for me.”

Her hands gripped his hair as her body bowed up to him. “Why…do you…still have…pants…?”

He chuckled. “Patience, love. I’ve got you.” And then his mouth moved down, biting and suckling across her stomach, lathing with his tongue as he went, his fingers stroking around her core lightly; not enough pressure to give her any relief. She whimpered as she wriggled her hips, trying to force more pressure, when suddenly his mouth was right there, warm breath brushing against her as he licked a stripe from the base of her wet heat to the small bud of nerves at its crown.

Her back arched off the bed, and he brought his left arm up, using it to anchor her hips in place as he began to explore in earnest, dipping his tongue into her again and again to lap at her juices, the cool metal of his rings playing over the little nub above him.

“Oh, Christ,” she hissed as her hands tangled in his hair. The tension in her body tightened and coiled like metal too tightly wound. “Killian, please…”

His mouth left her for a moment and she nearly sobbed, until he slid two fingers into her slick heat, stroking in and out in an intense rhythm as his mouth came down against her clit, suckling gently. Within moments, the last of Emma’s control snapped and she was flying and falling, chasing through the waves of pleasure that rolled through her body. He continued his movements until her hands pulled his head away, drawing him up to her.

“All right, love?” he whispered, his voice husky. She answered him with a searing kiss that just made him harder, knowing she could taste herself on his mouth. Distracted by the kiss, he felt her hands working at the laces of his leathers, and he dropped his own to help her. Soon she had peeled them off and shoved him onto his back, grabbing one of the crinkling little foil packets. He watched her pull it open and was curious, but before he could speak, she gave his hard length two firm strokes that had him arching his own back to her touch, then she slipped something over the length of him, rolling it down.

It wasn’t an unknown concept to him, there had been something similar in the Enchanted Realms involving a dried sheep’s intestine, but this felt different. Tighter and slicker. And then Emma was straddling him, grinding against him once…twice…then she was sinking down onto him. She felt impossibly tight and he fought to keep his eyes open, starring in awe at the look of wonder and pleasure on her face.

They remained still for a moment, just starring at each other and breathing hard. Emma’s hand came up and brushed his cheek again, softly. Then she moved, rolling her hips to bring herself up and back down the length of him. It was a slow rhythm, and he was content to bring his arms up, resting his hand and his brace on her waist and letting his thumb trace small circles against the just of her hip bone.

“You’re so bloody beautiful, Emma,” he breathed. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

She leaned down, and kissed him, long and hard. “You stayed.” Her words were a whisper against his lips. Then she nipped the skin at the edge of his jaw. “Now move.”

“As you wish,” he growled, and planting his feet, he leveraged himself, snapping his hips up and into her. She moaned incomprehensively as her own movements sped up. His fingers drifted down, settling just above their joining, and he used two of them to bracket the bundle of nerves there, stroking around it with hard firm strokes.

Her back arched and her eyes widened, then she went rigid above him and he felt her walls clench and flutter as her release overtook her. He continued thrusting and stroking her through it until she collapsed against him, her breath coming in sharp pants. He slowed his thrusts to a gentle rocking as his hand rubbed her back, his lips whispering non-sense words against her ear.

When she had recovered a little, he pulled her tight against him and rolled them over, coming to rest above her with his weight resting on his arms. “Emma…” It was a question on a sigh and she answered by drawing his mouth down to hers, her teeth nipping his lower lip and legs coming up, wrapping around his waist and deepening his angle. He groaned against her mouth. “Fuck, love….”

“Please.” Her voice was husky and raw and the tight control he had held onto, trying to make this last for her was gone, spiraling off as the pressure built. He rose up on his knees, pulling her hips tight against his and began to thrust hard and deep, angling for the spot he knew must be there. Emma keened softly, her own hands coming up to her breasts, squeezing and kneading in time to his movements.

He felt the pressure building at the base of his spine, impossibly hot and thick and moved his hand, pressing his thumb against Emma, rubbing tight circles. It seemed to hit her without warning, his name a cry on her lips, wrecked and broken and she was clenching him so tightly. He thrust once more, hard and then the pleasure was pulling him down, drowning him like a mermaid in Neverland’s waters. The feeling of peace and home tore a soft sob from him, and he would have been embarrassed by it, by the tears in his eyes, but Emma’s own green ones met his, and he could see tears in hers as well.

He was careful not to collapse on to her, instead rolling them to the side, his arms around her and his lips pressed against her hair. They stayed like that for moments that felt like a lifetime; then Emma pulled away and showed him, carefully, how to take care of the sheath she had stretched over him. She walked it to his bathroom, dropping it in the trash and then came back with a soft, wet cloth.

He took it from her as she sat, and using light pressure, cleaned her before using it on himself. He rose this time, depositing it in the bathroom and using the facility. Returning to the room, he found Emma sitting shyly on the edge of the bed, part of the blanket wrapped around her. She looked skittish, and for a moment, his heart sank.

She looked up at him, licking her lips. “Should I…I should go?” It was more a question than a statement, and it hurt him to see her so unsure, especially tonight of all nights.

He crossed the room in long stride and knelt down in front of her, his hand coming up and rest on hers. “Swan, it would be my immense pleasure if you stayed, tonight. I can imagine no better way to awake after this evening than with you in my arms.”

She sucked in a breath, and for a minute, he felt his heart stop. Then her eyes met his and a soft smile lit her face. “Okay.”

The world righted and he breathed again. He moved over to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers, sliding in. Emma waited until he was settled, then untangled the blanket and stretched out next to him, her body fitting into his side like she had been born to be there. For the first time in 300 years, Killian Jones felt a sense of utter contentment.

“Good night, Killian,” she said, softly.

“Good night, love.” Reaching over, he switched off the light.

 

 

 


End file.
